The Unadulterated Story of Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer
by persevera
Summary: Spoiled, beautiful Rumpleteazer is in for the time of her life with the stray tomcat who could be her twin (Let's hope he isn't)
1. Notorious Couple

Rumpleteazer stretched lazily, kneading her front paws in the pile of the Oriental rug on which she lay. She began to clean herself, running her tongue purposefully over her black, orange and white stripes—a very small but pretty tigress.

Her black eyes darted to the sound of nails clicking on the marble floor and a low purr, that she knew, if the family didn't, was asking playfully, "Where are you?"

Her tiny heart beating just a little faster, she licked her whiskers and, with an inward smile, feigned sleep, curling up into what she knew was her most adorable pose.

Mungojerrie entered the drawing room, still rumbling his sing-song call for her. Bedraggled and hurt after a fight with another young tom, (who looked much worse) he'd allowed himself to be brought in from the street a few weeks ago by the family's ten year-old boy. Since then, he'd adapted to the new-money atmosphere of the home.

This room, in particular, was his domain. The dark walnut, curved legs of its furniture now bore his scratches. He'd marked his territory on the sapphire blue settee and its accompanying paisley chairs. He'd made snags in the satin fabric of the young mother's daybed, situated to enjoy the morning sun, that poured in the front of the large clapboard house in the center of Victoria Grove.

He knew the parlor maids hated him, as did the kitchen staff, because of his penchant to leap onto the table and steal food—presents for the lovely young cat who had captured his heart since his arrival.

He saw her now, a sweet, multi-striped ball on the carpet in front of the unlit fireplace.

He laid in front of her the chunk of Argentine joint that he'd managed to bite off just before Cook swatted him away.

Rumpleteazer's cute nose twitched and whiskers danced at the aroma and she slowly opened her mahogany eyes to smile at the spiky-furred, equally striped cat appreciatively.

She took a portion of the morsel in her mouth, then moved her head close to his, as if to kiss, so that she could share with him the warm, juicy meat.

They watched each other as they ate the treat, then Mungojerrie placed a paw on her back, scanning her with eyes that had closely appraised many young felines and found her most favorable.

She rolled over, offering herself to him, with a slow, seductive meow.

He grinned and lowered his head to nuzzle from her stomach to her ear and purred, "The family's gone. Do you still want to see Macavity's lair?"

She jumped up quickly, her eyes sparkling like the night sky. He'd promised her that he'd take her to meet the infamous criminal mastermind of the city's animal world. He'd been one of Macavity's trainees practically since his orphan birth.

She followed behind him, almost knocking over a precariously placed, purportedly Ming vase, as she ran faster than she ever had in her life, through the open door of the kitchen and out onto London's streets. The wind blew across her fur and the peaking sun heated it. Her senses hummed with excitement for another adventure with the beautiful, rogue cat, who had changed her pampered world.

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	2. Keen to Be Seen

The grey and black-banded cat stood on his hind legs, forepaws on the top of the picket fence surrounding the vicarage garden. He watched sadly as Demeter and Bombalurina ran across the green field to the road that would take them to London and the excitement they sought.

_Too enticing for their own good_, he said to himself.

Even as a young kitten, Bombalurina had seemed to have a natural allure for every tom that she saw and that saw her. Her sleek red coat, with its elliptical spots, made her unique. Her mischievous smile that accompanied the incredible physique made her nearly irresistible.

And then, dear Demeter—She had a soft blend of gold and black patches, greenish-gold eyes and the sweeter characteristics of her mother, the infamous Grizabella.

Once known as the Glamour Cat, Grizabella had become a tawdry shadow of her former self. She'd left her kitten there, at the vicarage, to be cared for by young, dependable Munkustrap, the motherly Jenny Anydots, and of course, Old Deuteronomy.

Munkustrap's eyes followed Demeter, whom he loved, but what chance did a drab, country mouse chaser, like himself, have against the big city males that Bomba had convinced her friend they were destined to meet and enthrall?

So they ran, spurning the security and serenity of the vicarage and, by extension, the simple devotion of its caretaker.

Munkustrap shook his head in resignation and lowered his great height to the ground. "If it's excitement they want, they're sure to find it," he said wisely. Returning to his duties to the garden and its inhabitants, he repeated to himself, "They'll be back. She'll be back."

Demeter trailed the knowing Bomba, feeling a mix of elation at their escape and regret at leaving her adopted family. She didn't really remember her dame, only that her tongue had had a film and smell of yeast and she'd never had enough milk. Jenny, on the other hand, though dry for many years, had always wrapped warm, fluffy arms around the gold and black kitten, and shared the saucer of cream that she received every day from the vicar's wife.

Old Deuteronomy had taught her the name of every plant and creature in the garden, and given up his sunny spot on the wall at the front of the grounds, to make room for their little charge.

As for Munkustrap—he was such a dear, but really only seemed to enjoy himself when he presided over Deuteronomy's birthday celebration, when he would tell the story of his friend, Rumpuscat.

Demeter remembered when he'd come to visit. He was black and grey, like Munkustap, but his stripes rippled with muscle and he had that startling white chest. She'd trembled in wonder as the two toms recounted how Rumpuscat kept the small dogs of the city in line, while his reddish eyes glowed and his mane—wild and black, danced in the wind. Now she felt her breathing and heart beat increase, and she knew it wasn't because of the run.

"Hurry," called back Bomba, as they crossed the railroad tracks and neared the city. Demeter stretched her legs to match her longer friend's pace.

Bombalurina had moved in to the house next door to the vicarage a few months after Demeter's arrival. The head of her family was a famous mystery writer with a liberal bent. The things the sheltered, smaller kitten had learned from her!

They slowed to a prancing gait that they knew would generate interest. From his perch in the station manager's shack, Skimbleshanks, the railway cat, rolled his eyes at the affectation.

"Seen too much of that in my years," he said, finishing the cleaning of his orange fur, then dropping to the ground for his inspection of the engines in the train yard. "Must keep to schedule," he reminded himself, with a last appreciative glance at the pretty young cats.

"Almost there," Bomba panted excitedly. She repeated for Demeter her experience that was the impetus for their foray. "The stray who came through the other day...after we shared his catnip behind the barn, he told me about Macavity. He said we could find him under The Tomb, and he told me about another cat who could outfit us with spiked collars."

Demeter's hair stood on end at the idea of something so daring. She wondered if Rumpuscat would like it and felt her blush. "What are we going to do when we get there?"

Bomba grinned. "Whatever we want."

* * *

"Will there be other girls?" asked Rumpleteazer, the pitch of her voice rising with her nerves, as they approached the area off Fleet Street where The Tomb stood.

Mungojerrie smiled, falling into step with her. To the casual observer, with their similar markings, they might be one very wide feline. "There are always girls," he said, "though none like you."

She answered his smile with her own, trying to read his thoughts in his toffee brown eyes. She had a feeling he wasn't telling her everything. She was right.

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	3. Cabbage, Rice Pudding and Mutton

It was the dirtiest place that Rumpleteazer had ever seen. It was still light out on the streets, but this alley to the right of The Tomb was dark as night, with Industrial Age dust collected everywhere—on the ground, over the walls of the buildings on either side, the carelessly-tossed garbage and, she suspected, in her beautiful, shiny fur as well. She moved closer to Mungojerrie, hoping that he could deflect some of the soot. A nervous giggle escaped her.

"Shh," her young mate admonished her. "The owner of the club is particular about what cats he let's back here—usually only members' pets."

"What are we doing here?" she asked, her hair bristling with excitement. "I thought you said Macavity's lair was on the other side and under the building."

He nodded his striped head. "It is, but we have to take a gift for him. Everyone does to get in." He began pawing and sniffing through the mounds of broken crates and barrels and rotting food. "And he won't take just anything."

Rumpleteazer glanced up at the strong, young cat, thinking he looked like a jungle king on his throne. Her heart leapt toward him, then she glanced and pawed gingerly at a pile of garbage by the door, pulling out a partial fish skeleton, with a look of triumph on her delicate face.

Mungojerrie smiled but shook his head. "He'd say it's too old," he explained. Seeing her ears drop in dejection, he jumped from the debris to stand next to her.

The virile tom nuzzled her to lift her chin and said, "No matter. We'll have it ourselves."

Teazer laid down the bones with a little smile and they both began licking, absorbing the flavors of the cod and the discards with which it had been found. "Yumm," she murmured. "He doesn't know what he's missing."

Mungo moved closer to her. Their heads touched as they gnawed the same succulent remnant. "We'll keep it that way," he said, flicking his tongue across her mouth for a shared taste of marrow.

Teazer's black eyes now feasted on him, feeling the warmth and jitters that always accompanied his touch. His purr suggested desire.

A deep but pleasant growl interrupted. "Ah, Mungojerrie," hailed the cat waddling toward the pretty couple, "where have you been, lad? And who is this lovely little tiger with you?"

"This is Rumpleteazer," the young tom said proudly. "We make our home in Victoria Grove, but I'm here to show her how other cats live."

"The Grove, eh? That's a nice little community," said the St. James's Street cat. "Unfortunately, your new address doesn't seem to have improved your manners, Young Mungo. You've only made half an introduction."

Rumpleteazer gaped at the largest cat she had ever seen. He was like a furry, black hippopotamus, she thought, comparing him to the stuffed animal in her family's game room, a memento of the father's Indian military service.

The rotund cat smiled at her. His white face seemed to carry a thin black mustache, like his master's, and he touched it with a paw, as though giving it a twirl. "Bustopher Jones, at your service, my dear."

Rumpleteazer remembered her training with the family's young daughter at Lady Mary's Charm School for Girls and Their Pets. She dropped her head and little bottom in a perfect, four-legged curtsy. "How do you do, Mr. Jones," she said in a far more cultured voice than Mungojerrie had ever heard from her. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Rumpleteazer," he grinned, bowing in deep admiration. "Perhaps you would like to share my afternoon repast," he offered, as the pub owner came out with the platter ordered by Bustopher's master. The man eyed the younger cats with scornful forbearance, unable to chase away Bustopher's guests.

Mungojerrie's eyes sparkled and mouth watered at the combination of tart, sweet and savory aromas as the older cat dipped his white, spat-like paws into the plate. "We have somewhere to be," he said, picking up a large piece of rabbit in his sharp, white teeth, "but I'll take this with us."

Bustopher chortled, digging into his dessert. "Take it, you thief."

The couple hurried away with their prize, leaving the Brummel of cats in the filthy alley. "I'm still in me prime," he assured himself, dripping food all over his perfectly tailored coat.

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	4. Never Was There Ever

"She'll be back," Munkustrap continued to tell himself as he went about his daily duties. Demeter was more like him than she knew. Yes, she might like a little adventure, who didn't? What she really craved though was love and security, which he could offer. And he could show her excitement right there in the garden, if that's what she wanted. His heart pounded, thinking of the possibilities.

This loss of the lovely gold and black cat had made him realize just how strong his feelings for her actually were. He would show her when she returned. "She'll be back."

In the meantime he had to make accommodations for an unexpected visitor, Old Deuteronomy's great-grandson, the irrepressible Rum Tum Tugger. Munkustrap shook his pewter-colored head as he watched the Tugger lounging under the spreading cherry tree. He was often described as a "curious beast," with his leopard-like crest and leonine mane, and the most irritating combination of finicky and mischievous disposition found in the animal world. But the lady cats loved him and his provocativeness.

"The Rum Tum Tugger is a terrible bore," his traveling companion Mr Mistoffelees would say with feigned intolerance. Currently the small black and white cat was about on the roof or curled up by the fire...who knew? The Tugger claimed that Misto was magical.

Munkustrap tsked as the four kittens from down the lane pranced in front of Deuteronomy's heir. Jemima and Electra were sable-tinted, while flirtatious Etcetera resembled their mother, with her champagne fur and wild markings that refused to conform to a pattern. Pure white and poetic in movement, Victoria appeared the most innocent. The way she and that patchy-haired rex breed from the professor's house, Plato, eyed each other, though, that wouldn't last long.

"Jellylorum needs to take them all in hand," he mentally chastised the harried mother, who had been surprised with this female litter late in life. Munkustrap turned up his nose in uncharacteristic disregard for her plight and stalked the perimeter of the garden's stone walls.

The day was proceeding beautifully, with the roses, delphiniums, and other summer blooms responding to the friendly sun with their brightest colors and biggest petals of the season. But their perfumes only made him think of Demeter and what she might be doing in that horrible, sordid place. He bristled as he continued his reconnaissance, until he spotted the Yorkie, Little Tom Pollicle, at the gate leading to the house.

Munkustrap arched his back, hissed and growled as he approached the small dog. Tom cocked his head in puzzlement. He and the Munk had never been friends, but the feline steward had always been too busy to get riled by his dares and taunts. Now though, he seemed to be spoiling for a fight, grey and black hair standing up like opposing sides in a battle.

"If a fight's what he wants," said Tom, scraping his hind feet and lowering his head with a responding growl, "a fight's what he'll get."

With a tabby's roar, Munkustrap vaulted the distance between him and the red and white terrier, pushing him onto his back. They grappled and snarled, drawing the attention of the Rum Tum Tugger from his indifferent teasing of the kittens. He stood at the edge of the skirmish, spitting and darting forward then back, as if eager to join the fray, but not doing so.

Munkustrap and Tom rolled around in combat, their claws and fangs prominent but fleeting, until Tom yelped and yelped and fled. His tail between his legs, and a few drops of blood on his trail attested to his shame in being bested by a lowly cat. The victor reared on his hind legs, licked his whiskers and clawed the air where his opponent had stood just moments before.

The Tugger leapt in the air in his excitement, nearly landing on little Etcetera, who had been nosing her way around his flanks. "Brilliant!" he exclaimed. "I never knew you had it in you Munk, old boy."

Munkustrap turned his head so sharply in the direction of the voice that Rum Tum backed away, not wanting to be the next target for the bigger cat and his foul mood.

"Munkustrap," shouted Old Deuteronomy from his spot on the wall. He arthritically hobbled over to the younger animals, shedding clumps of excess hair along the way. His chest still heaving, Munkustrap heeded his mentor and stretched back on his hind legs in a show of respect.

"Did you harm the pollicle?" Deuteronomy asked, settling his groaning body between his caretaker and his descendant.

Munkustrap shook his bowed head. "I only bit; I didn't tear."

Deuteronomy gave a slight nod. He was like a large brown shag rug. The Tugger lived in dread that his unique mane was a small sampling of the great, heavy pelt that he would one day have to carry. He plopped down to preen his currently trim coat. The kittens, all but Victoria, who had disappeared, followed suit.

"Go," Deuteronomy intoned, "Find Demeter and bring her home."

Munkustrap slowly raised his head, a mix of confusion and hope betrayed in his twitching whiskers and popping charcoal eyes.

"We need you, Munkustrap," the senior cat continued, placing a heavy paw on the grey head before him, as if dubbing a knight. "And you need her."

With a grateful nuzzle and exultant meow, Munkustrap jumped to his feet and sped out the gate. He was like a silver bullet. His trajectory was due east, guided by the scent of Bombalurina and Demeter.

The Tugger spoke between licks. "How is that ignorant village cat to find one young feline in the great city of London?"

Deuteronomy looked at his progeny and huffed. "Munkustrap can do anything. What about you?"

Rum Tum Tugger returned to his four legs and wiggled for the benefit of his kitten admirers. "I will do as I do do," he said with a voice rich in conviction. Heading back to the cherry tree, he added, "And there's no doing anything about it."

Deuteronomy sighed after the strutting rascal, and resignedly lumbered back to his sunny spot on the vicarage wall.

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	5. No Human Research Can Discover

Mungojerrie knew this place like the back of his paw—the alley behind The Tomb that the sun never reached. On either side were the red brick walls of once large and impressive homes, now tenaments. The raucous sounds of humans, mostly men, came from the rear quarters of the club at any hour of the day or night. The cat shook his head in tolerant amusement at the debauchery, then looked at his companion.

Rumpleteazer wasn't regretting her choice to come to the seedy side of London, but it was still a bit of a shock actually seeing it, hearing it, above all, smelling it.

The water that pooled and spoiled beneath the rusted, broken elbow of the drainage pipe was particularly disgusting. She choked down a gasp when Mungojerrie waded through it. With Bustopher's mutton, dripping cabbage juice and rice pudding held tight in his sharp, white teeth, he beckoned her to follow through a small hole in the wall.

His brown eyes crinkled with an encouraging smile, as he stood to the side for her to make the small jump from the ground level to the floor of the cats' den. Streaks of light, seeping through the floorboards of the establishment above them, were unnecessary for the scotopic pair, except to enhance their attractiveness.

"Do you think they'll like me?" Rumpleteazer asked, her brown/black eyes wide with her nervousness.

"Of course they will," he murmured around the meat. "How could they not?"

He scratched at the panel that hid Macavity and his entourage from Scotland Yard and large dogs alike.

"Why, Mungo," crowed the doorkeeper, Griddlebones, "Where've ye been keepin' yerself, lad?" He lifted the panel to allow the couple access, eyeing Teazer appreciatively.

Surrendering their mutton token, the young tom responded, "I'm stayin' with a family now."He moved to stand between the rangy, mangy brindle cat and pristine Teazer.

"Can't say that I blame ye," chortled Griddlebones with a wink. "A pretty kitty such as this might keep me in one place as well, but why did ye bring her here?"

_Why, indeed? _the young male asked himself. His natural inclination to impress the fair feline had led him to tell her all about his history with the dangerous and intriguing Macavity and his cohorts. She'd lapped it up like the bowl of cream they shared.

Dipping her head and lifting her long eyelashes, she'd nuzzled and purred, "Oh, Mungojerrie, can we go there some day? I want to see where you grew up, how you lived before you came to me."

He'd grinned devilishly in response. He'd had enough experience to know when a tam (street slang for a young female cat) was finessing him, but never had it been done so charmingly...or successfully.

"I'll take you there," he'd promised under the influence of those eyes, brushing off his concerns about initiation.

Now, however, those misgivings were at the forefront of his mind. He was willing to take any challenge for Rumpleteazer, but would it be enough?

"She'll be fine," Mungojerrie stated firmly. "I'll whip anyone here for her initiation."

"That shouldn't be necessary, mate." A ginger cat hissed, making his usual stealthy appearance. "I'm sure we can devise a more creative way for your friend to...introduce herself to us all."

He lifted one of Rumpleteazer's paws to his chin in a courtly gesture. "You may call me Macavity, my pretty."

She smiled at the Scourge of the Yard. He was tall and thin, his brow deeply lined with thought. The iris and pupil of his eyes seemed to merge in a fathomless blackness. He was quite magnetic. Of course, Teazer was besotted with Mungojerrie, and he was far more attractive than the male who stood before her. Still, she could see where other she-cats would be drawn to him.

"Whatever it is, I'll do it for her," Mungojerrie proclaimed, curling his tail protectively across her back.

Macavity beamed with secret, paternal pride. "You've already proven your capabilities, my boy," he said. "But what can she do?" He leered at the molly, who now met his gaze with her natural boldness, without a flinch or a twitch. "Tell me, princess, have you ever stolen anything?"

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	6. There's the Wonder

His son had done well for himself, living in a posh, new house in Victoria Grove with the family at his mercy. Macavity chuckled as he strolled alone through London's streets, recalling Mungojerrie's telling of how the young, sickly boy of the family would howl at the suggestion of punishment for feline misdeeds. So he and Rumpleteazer had the run of the house and would go through it like a hurricane. When their mischief was found, the adults would simply say "It's that horrible cat."

"And do they try to figger which one of you did it?" Macavity had asked.

Mungojerrie had responded with a shrug. "Most of the time, they leave it at that."

Macavity snickered again and continued his musings. The tam was a charmer, to be sure. If she could manage the little errand on which he'd sent her, she might just be good enough for the lad. He wasn't positive of her pedigree, but suspected that she was from that rich, tiger family from the St. James area. Perhaps old Bustopher could help him with that, though he would never be able to remember on his own. _Fat and forgetful, _Macavity said to himself with a smile. It would take some prompting from him to tweak the older cat's memory and for Bustopher, prompting meant food. _I might drop by with a little venison, after I see Gus._

Asparagus was a theatre cat who had taken what he knew about costumes to a successful second act, crafting cat accessories. He shook with palsy now, so he only did the designs and left the production to his assistants.

Macavity had dabbled in acting himself at one time, and had admired Gus for his bravura performance of Firefrorefiddle, the Fiend of the Fell**. **He considered Gus an important contact in the legit world. He'd torn his collar during his latest heist and he hoped that the old stage cat could fix it.

_But what have we here? _The career criminal and consummate ladies' man licked his whiskers at the sight of the two young catta trying on spiked collars in Gus's shop.

The roanish, spotted one, a real bombshell, was batting her eyes at Gus's assistants, two black cats, known as George and Bill Bailey.

"Come now," she purred with a cute, country accent, drawing out her soft sounds, "surely you won't charge us the same price that you would just anyone."

The brothers were putty in her paws, their eyes cycling between her face and swishing tail.

Macavity shook his head in amusement. Yes, she was obviously attractive, but the quieter black and gold lovely with her...there was something familiar...

"Hello, kitties," he hailed them, swaying his head from side to side and showing off the points of his teeth, "Gus, where are your manners? Aren't you going to introduce us?"

The old grey and brown cat looked up from his worktable in confusion.

The fiend in feline shape moved closer to the girls. "Never mind. Perhaps you've heard of me; I'm Macavity."

Bombalurina turned her head to the commanding voice, wriggling with excitement. Macavity smiled in response, but couldn't take his eyes off of the little black and gold powder puff.

* * *

Munkustap stretched his legs like a gazelle, covering the distance between the vicarage and the outskirts of London in an amazingly short span of time. He had to slow down at the train station and heard a strained voice far behind him.

"Munk," panted someone. "Munk, wait for us."

He turned with annoyance to see the Rum Tum Tugger and Mr. Mistoffeles sprinting over the tracks to meet him.

Ever on the alert, Skimbleshanks, the railway cat, watched the trio for signs of trouble.

"What?" Munkustrap hissed when Old Deuteronomy's grandson reached him.

Huffing like the train engines, the Tugger said, "We-want-to help."

No," Munkustrap snarled. "You'll be in the way."

Rum Tum Tugger shook his head so that his mane-like scruff whipped around him. "I've been places, Munk. I know how to get around, how to talk to cats from all over."

Munkustrap wrinkled his face into a furry squint, not convinced.

Tugger recovered his full voice. "And Misto," he pointed out, beckoning the smallest of the three to hurry to them. "Misto is magical."

"Presto," Misto said in a soft voice, turning a somersault in mid-air, flashes of light emanating from his paws. He landed on his feet with a flourish.

"See," the Tugger said in triumph to the shocked Munkustrap. "We won't be in the way; we can help you find Demeter."

* * *

The cheshire grin the notorious thief gave the two young cats had stolen the hearts of much more experienced mollys for years. "May I offer my services as your escort?" he drawled, still staring at Demeter's golden eyes. "We can share a meal and then, how would you like to see my famous lair?"

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	7. Mean Like a Minx

A sharp, warm wind ruffled Rumpleteazer's fur and pulled back her pointed ears. She surveyed the scene carefully. This wasn't one of the busier times of day in the park so there were fewer children and nannies. That was good, Mungojerrie had explained to her, because nothing escaped a good nanny's notice.

She hopped up on a wrought iron bench and made a play of grooming herself while she chose her victim.

She quickly rejected an elderly woman, wrapped in shawls despite the heat, who beckoned for her. Teazer knew that she was just too tempting and that the old woman would try to spontaneously adopt her. There was a little boy with his mother. They reminded her of her family's son, Robbie, and his mother. But the boy was a dripping, sticky mess with a rapidly melting strawberry ice cream cone. Teazer did not want that anywhere near her beautiful coat. Across the sidewalk, a man took out his handkerchief to dust off an area on the bench comparable to his rather large backside. He sat and fanned himself with his homburg hat then leaned on his bumbershoot.

She purred with satisfaction. Here was her man. Who would be in the park in the middle of the afternoon, dressed like that in a linen suit, except someone who wouldn't really miss one of his treasures, plus his lumbering roundness ensured that he wasn't likely to give chase.

Mungojerrie, watching her from the visible, arched roots of a chestnut tree, nodded in approval at his clever catta.

"Yes," she'd answered smartly when Mac had asked her if she'd ever stolen anything. She'd gone on to say that she often took things from the family's eldest, prissy Sarah Jane, when she pulled her striped tail or screamed at her for shedding on her counterpane.

Sarah Jane would later find herself missing a ribbon or trinket or, even once, a tightly folded note from an ardent young swain, that preteen Sarah Jane had had to explain to her mother, who had found it among her knitting skeins.

"Hmm," Rumpletezer now mused. Macavity had said that he wanted something shiny. She watched the sun catch the metal of a ring on his hand, the watch fob at his waistcoat, his throat where the blue striped cravat came together—all too difficult to snatch from him. Then she saw a sparkle on the bench where he'd laid his hat. The light tan felt glinted with the man's club insignia. "I can get that."

She looked over at Mungojerrie behind his natural bars and wagged her tail to signal that she was about to strike. He moved away from his cover in a wide, stealthy circle, to provide a diversion, if she should need it.

Like her evolutionary antecedents prowling in the veldt, Rumpleteazer was off of her bench, across the walkway and on the man's bench in a flash, her eyes trained on the tack pin.

The man had his own diversion in the form of two young women, strolling the promenade to soon pass in front of him, their light, lacy summer dresses exposing dainty ankles and hinting at more.

Teaser and her instinct crept the last few inches that separated her from her prey, opened her maw, bit down on the disc and yanked it out of the topper.

"What!" shouted the man, finally realizing that there was a game afoot. He reached out for the little bandit then cried out in pain and surprise as another cat pounced on his head with an angry growl. The screech from that animal sounded anxious, as if urging the other to run!

The man's arms and hands flailed uselessly above his head, as the larger tiger cat leapt to the ground and took off on the tail of the other.

The man stood, aghast, rubbing his bald pate where he'd felt the stick of the claws.

"Oh, are you hurt?" asked the young women, hurrying over to him.

The man put a brave smile on his red, chubby face. "No, no. I'm fine. I'll just have to get another pin from my club, the Stage and Screen. Perhaps you've heard of it..."

Mungojerrie raced just ahead of Rumpleteazer when they were well away from the park and signaled for her to stop.

Her chest rose and fell with her panting breath, the pin still clutched in her teeth, as she looked up at him for approval.

She received it, with a dip of his head under her chin that lifted it in a nuzzle. Her heart rate should be slowing now that she'd stopped running but with him so close, it wasn't.

"Good show," he purred low and slow in her ear. "Mac will be pleased."

She grinned and the silver plated circle in her mouth reflected in the dark mirror of her eyes.

Mungojerrie stared and swallowed the lump of feeling that must wait for a more appropriate setting. He cocked his head in the direction of the Tomb and the proud pair ambled that way, eager to present the evidence of Rumpleteazer's successful maiden hunt.


	8. All Hail and All Bow

Impatience mounted each time Munkustrap had to turn his head to see what was delaying those two.

Mr. Mistoffeles seemed to find every plant or object in their path simply fascinating and the Rum Tum Tugger would stop whenever he caught brambles in his fur to remove the offending foliage.

Munkustrap look up at the sky. The sun was already traversing westward and he still had to find his vagabond friend, Rumpuscat.

"You're sure she said Macavity," Munkustrap asked for clarification again as a freshly-groomed Tugger and Misto ran up beside him.

Tugger nodded. "Etcetera told me that Bomba told her about a stray that she'd shared some 'nip with. Etcetera said she was quite excited about the possibility of meeting the "Mystery Cat."

Munkustrap shook his head at the recklessness of Bombalurina, who seemed determined to lead sweet Demeter astray with her.

"No more stops, understand?" he ordered in as close to a bark as a cat could manage. "Mistoffeles, the trees will still be there on the way home and you..." He saved a scowl for Tugger. "If I see you try to comb twigs out of your hair again, I'll shave it off you." He made the threat real with a slash of his razory claws, then resumed his rapid clip toward London and his wayward love.

The chastised pair followed dutifully and they all soon arrived in the den of iniquity that was London.

In the vicinity of the park, Munkustrap slowed his pace and began a steady yowl, moving from one brownstone building to another. Tugger and Misto trailed him along the well-swept sidewalk, with cats' curiosity, as he looked over the iron bars into the small basement flats.

A caterwaul came from one, in response to Munkustrap's cry and then, who should stalk out but the blazing-eyed and shaggy Rumpuscat.

"Munk, my friend," he boomed, approaching the only other cat who stood as tall as he, "what are you doing in London? Why, you haven't been here since we defeated that..."

"Never mind," the Munk interrupted him, casting his eyes toward Misto and Tugger, who stood gaping at the muscle-bound animal. "I'm here to find someone. She and her friend might be with Macavity."

Rumpuscat lifted his eyebrow in surprise. "It wouldn't be that sweet kitty with the golden eyes, would it? What would she be doing with the Napoleon of Crime?"

Munkustrap rolled his head. He'd always hated all of the appellations given to Macavity, which seemed to elevate him from a rather clumsy cat burglar (Who couldn't infiltrate a greenhouse without breaking the glass?) to some kind of super-villain.

"Yes, it's Demeter," he finally answered. "She's with a friend who is a bit...uninhibited."

Rumpuscat's mouth stretched in a lascivious grin. "Ah, the other tam I saw in your garden, with the red pelt and strategically-placed spots, Bomba-Lure-Me-Inna."

Munkustrap shook his grey and black head in disgust and sneered at his friend.

"That's right," piped up Tugger, who had been quiet for as long as he could. "Someone told Bombalurina about Macavity and she talked Demeter into coming here with her...we think."

Rumpuscat squinted and arched his back in hostility. "And who are you?" he asked, quite unimpressed with the know-it-all young turk and the silent, nodding, black and whiteface.

Munkustrap saw Misto flex his paws and, fearing an explosive response, hurried with introductions.

"Old Deuteronomy's grandson, eh?" said the London native. "Well, you can't be all together bad, then. And you're magical?" he asked Mistoffeles, his voice going higher with skepticism.

The original conjuring cat maintained a steady gaze with Rumpuscat but didn't answer.

"He can play any trick with a cork, or a spoon and a bit of fish paste," Tugger claimed.

Munkustrap sighed and raised his head, as if seeking help from the denizens of the Heaviside layer. His rescue team seemed neither compatible nor competent.

"Hmph," Rumpuscat snorted. "You'll need more than fish paste to get the better of Macavity."

"Do you know where he is?" Munkustrap growled.

Rumpuscat shook his head. "No, but don't worry, Munk," he said, laying a supportive paw across his compatriot's black-striped shoulder, "we'll find him...and her."

Tugger and Misto moved closer as well in a show of solidarity. Strength, charm, magic and determination—perhaps they had a chance after all.

_** The Aweful Battle of the Pekes and the Pollicles**_

_**watch?v=E_FNAcAlK1k**_


	9. Do You Tense When You Sense

Most of the gentlemen members at the Tomb would be horrified to know about the back rooms that offered any number of sins and entertainment. Some, of course, were enthusiastic patrons and Macavity's role models.

This time, though, he had surpassed them all. No act could be as scintillating as what he and his cronies were enjoying. Bombalurina and the sleek Cassandra moved over each other like molten medals—limber bronze and liquid copper that twisted and writhed with the slow siren call of the reedy music from the rooms above them.

"What will her initiation be?" asked Griddlebones, winking with a ribald grin.

Lounging in his dominant position on a large, feathery pillow procured from the street, Macavity returned the grin.

"She's doing it now," he said, concentrating his gaze on Bomba. The low light from the rooms above them shifted with the people's movements and created a soft strobe over her and her partner as they continued their catta bolero.

Bones snickered. "And what about the other one?" he asked, turning his head to Demeter, curled up in a self-protective ball on the other side of the room's dirt floor.

Macavity looked over the heads of the other cats in attendance to smile at her. She buried her face in her front paws.

"I have something special in mind for her," he said, returning to the mutton received from Mungojerrie and his pretty little tam.

Griddlebones growled softly, his greying muzzle stern. He was the only creature permitted to look at Macavity that way. "I won't let you hurt her," he told him, with the authority of one who had taught the young mastermind and his old compatriots everything they knew.

Macavity raised his head, licking rice pudding from his whiskers. "You worry too much," he drawled lazily, pushing over the meat for his old mentor to share. "Hurting her would defeat my purpose."

Bones gave him a sidelong look and opened his mouth to say more, when bundles of orange, white and black suddenly bounded into the middle of the party.

"She did it!" Mungojerrie crowed, as Rumpleteazer strutted over to their host and dropped the shiny pin in front of him, then sat, grinning widely with her accomplishment.

All eyes turned to her; all faces smiled, except for one.

Bombalurina's auburn hair stood on end as she stalked toward the young molly. Teazer's button nose twitched as stood to meet her, also with hackles raised.

_This might be better than the dance, _Macavity said to himself, mentally rubbing his paws together in anticipation. His gang and guests created a circle around the combative she-cats. He glanced at Mungo, who looked worried, even as his slowly-swiping tail showed he was also excited. _That's my boy_.

Bomba snarled as her eyes fixed on the pearls around Teazer's neck, glowing milky white against the riot of color in her striped coat. She stretched out a paw to bat the large nacre pendant. Teazer hissed and swatted her away.

The music from the secret rooms seemed to sense the mood of the cats' lair, replacing the breathy woodwinds with faster brass and drums, suggesting a war dance. The overhead lighting also cooperated, receding from other parts of the room and concentrating on the center of the cats' circle, placing the two in a spotlight.

Bomba was arched like a rusty bow as she approached again, intoxicated with the music and attention, and thinking that she should have whatever she wanted, just as Macavity had intimated.

Rumpleteazer bared her small, white teeth. Even though the pearls were heavy and slowed her down when she sprinted with Mungojerrie, she was determined that no one was taking anything from her.

"Mac..." Bones growled. Macavity nodded in agreement and bunted against the circle, which opened up for him. He stepped between the feisty foes and, with a wink at Teazer, dropped the glittering hat pin that she'd presented to him in front of Bombalurina.

She looked down at it, then raised her coffee eyes to ask, "for me?"

Macavity grinned and moved closer to her in answer, signalling for Mungo. The young tom entered the circle and, taking the cue from his Fagin, sidled next to Rumpleteazer, allorubbing with her until they dropped to the floor together.

Griddlebones, sensing the change in the atmosphere, creaked over to Demeter's corner and lay like an aging sentry between her and the rest of the cats.

Macavity eased Bomba down and the ambient music became a whispering string, inviting all to relax and follow their nature. Tabby, manx, tiger and jellicle all succumbed, amassing in furry indolence, as the light from above grew dim.

_**For those perturbed by the sensuousness of the cats, I invite you to view this link for my inspiration**_

_**watch?v=i5YqfRdjFn8**_


	10. A Cat in Mind

They weren't at the junkyard past the Russell Hotel. They weren't in the ruins of the burnt mansion off St. James Street, or hiding out in the Kingsway tram tunnel.

Following Rumpuscat to yet another possible location for Macavity's lair and the cata from the village, Munkustrap glared at his childhood friend.

"How many more places do we have to look?" he hissed, out of earshot of Mistoffeles and the Tugger. " I thought you never let him get away from you, that you always knew where he was!"

Rumpuscat paced under the rickety trestle bridge as the train rumbled above them, heading for the northern part of the Northern Hemisphere. The light and sound of the locomotive interrupted the black night, like the hijinx & wails of young toms on the prowl.

"He's moved around more lately," Rumpuscat defended himself. "I haven't seen Griddlebones or my other young contact in months."

The Munk threw himself onto the cool grass, eyeing a small, grey field mouse, who couldn't believe his deplorable luck, in being surrounded by not one, not two, but _four_ cats. Munkustrap took out his frustrations on the mouse, batting it between his paws, imagining it to be that showboat, Macavity.

He'd always been a loose cannon. Why Griddlebones had chosen him as successor...

"I've got it!" Rumpuscat jumped up from the spot in the gravelly dust in which he'd chosen to sit, as if punishing himself for disappointing the cat he most admired.

"What?" Munkustrap asked, choking down the leathery skin and meat of the ill-fated rodent.

"The theater cat," Scat exclaimed, hurrying over to his friend, now that he could offer him renewed hope. "He and Mac were always friends, remember?"

"Gus?" the Munk asked in surprise. "He's still living?"

Scat nodded, his red eyes bobbing like fireflies. "Yep, and he lives not far from here. I'm sure he knows where we can find Mac."

Munkustrap spit out mouse bones and grinned. He looked across the shadowy field to where Misto and Tugger were taking turns walking on a wire, inexplicably stretched low between two trees. Was it possible that Misto somehow strung it? Munkustrap didn't know or care. "Hey, you two," he called. The duo turned their heads at the excitement they heard in his voice. "Let's go," he ordered.

Rumpuscat led the way as they all ran along the dark, rural road, back to the lights of the city. Munkustrap imagined Demeter, with her compact curves and languid golden eyes. _I'll tell her I love her, then she'll want to come back with me to the vicarage and the garden and our family._

* * *

Jenny Anydots had wept and moped ever since Old Deuteronomy had told her about the flight of her surrogate daughter. All day she sat beneath the stairs or on the mat in bitter misery.

"She doesn't love me; she doesn't think of me as her mother. How could you leave without telling me?" The tawny Gumbie cat tortured herself and Deuteronomy with her thoughts and questions.

He did his best to comfort her in the dusty, overstuffed sitting room of the vicarage. "I'm sure that's not it," he said in his soothing, basso voice. He was using his teeth to unfetter the curtain cord that, in her distress, Jenny had tied into sailor knots. "You know she's always been under the influence of Bombalurina."

Jenny's tail went stick straight as she snorted in hostility for that brazen little flibbertigibbit.

"Don't worry," Deuteronomy said, heading out to return to his sunny spot on the wall. "Munkustrap will find her and bring her home." He took one last look back at his spinster sister, a tabby mound of unhappiness. "In the meantime," he suggested, "why don't you drill your mice?"

With a nod, she licked her fat, leopard-spotted paw, then used it to wipe her tear-swollen face.

The mice and cockroaches in the cluttered basement perked up when they heard Jenny's heavy tread on the stairs and scurried to assemble. "Sqaaad..."

_** watch?v=kW4UAy-Hfio**_


End file.
